o the convent to see the abbess before starting for Tivoli. He bid
him tie the mule by the halter to the low branch of an overhanging
fig-tree, and sit down to wait.

"It is a cool night," said Dalrymple, though he was hot enough himself.
"Drink this, my boy."

He gave him the little bottle of aniseed, opening it as he did so. The
boy smelt it and knew that it was good, for it is a common drink in the
mountains. He drank half of it, pouring it into his mouth with a
gurgling sound.

"Drink it all," said Dalrymple. "I brought it for you."

The boy did not hesitate, but drained it to the last drop, and handed
the bottle back without a word. Dalrymple made him sit down near the
mule's head, well aside from the path, in case any one should pass. He
knew that between the unaccustomed dose of spirits and the thirty-five
drops of opium, the lad would be sound asleep before long. For the rest,
there was nothing to be done but to trust to luck. He had done the
impossible already, so far as physical effort was concerned, but Fortune
must not thwart him at the end. If she did, he had in his other pocket
enough left of what had killed Annetta to settle his own affairs
forever, and he might need it. At that moment he was absolutely
desperate. It would be ill for any one who crossed his path that night.

CHAPTER XVI.

DALRYMPLE wrapped his cloak about him once more, as he turned away, and
retraced his steps by the garden wall. He glanced at the long dark thing
that lay in the shadow of the postern, as he went by. It was not
probable that it would be noticed, even if any one should pass that way,
which was unlikely, between ten o'clock at night and three in the
morning. He went on without stopping, and in three or four minutes he
had gone round the convent to the main entrance, next to the church. He
rang the bell. The portress was expecting him, and he was admitted
without a word.

He found Maria Addolorata in the antechamber of the abbess's apartment,
veiled, and standing with folded hands in the middle of the little hall.
She must have heard the distant clang of the bell, for she was evidently
waiting for him.

"Am I in time?" he asked in a tone of anxiety.

She shook her head slowly.

"Is she dead?"

"She was dead before I sent for you," answered Maria Addolorata, in a
low and almost solemn tone. "No one knows it yet."

"I feared so," said Dalrymple.

He made a step towards the door of the parlour, naturall